


Jo'kur'a

by Whtevrhpnd2mary



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Drown Malcolm Reed Month, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whtevrhpnd2mary/pseuds/Whtevrhpnd2mary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm Reed faces punishment for a crime he doesn't remember committing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jo'kur'a

**Author's Note:**

> Response to an EntSTSlash community post challenge (post #31487), which was to write a story that included the following: "Malcolm gets hypnotized; Doctor Phlox behaves oddly; someone gets beaten up; someone screams; T'Pol drinks tea; Trip does not want to let go of Malcolm." Written in mid-2005, though really a "Drown Malcolm Reed Month" (November) story I didn't finish until revived with said challenge. Appears mostly unchanged from the version archived at the W5C, apart from spelling/grammatical fixes. Comments welcomed and appreciated!

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed nervously paced in his cell, his internal clock telling him he had been here for several hours. The Lakarans had said his sentence would be carried out exactly one day from his conviction, and he knew that on Lakara, one day had nearly come to pass.

His suspicions were confirmed when a shimmering light appeared in front of the energy field that protected his door. The guard posted outside nodded silently and turned, pushing a button and stopping the current long enough for this newly arrived visitor to go inside before activating the shimmering barrier again.

One hour. He was allowed one visitor of his choice for one hour before his sentence.

Commander Trip Tucker encircled his lover in an embrace, holding him tightly. They stood there for a moment that way, Malcolm taking comfort from the silent strength Trip was providing. He knew it was a barely maintained facade; Trip wasn't a weak man, but his heart wasn't strong enough to deal with the thought of someone he loved suffering.

And although neither of them knew exactly what the punishment was going to be, they knew it would be a harsh one. Malcolm had been convicted of attempted murder, after all.  
_______________________________________________________

 

_The previous day..._

"Ahh Mr. Reed, good of you to make an appearance at last," Doctor Phlox responded when he heard the sliding of the sickbay doors. He turned, his characteristic grin a bit dimmer than usual, and an irritated glare dancing in his eyes, though his voice betrayed none of it.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow for a moment, but dismissed the reaction. He supposed the doctor had a right to be irritated. He had been avoiding Phlox for some time, putting off his scheduled follow-up for two days now.

"Phase cannon upgrades," he offered as explanation, taking a seat on the biobed that Phlox was gesturing to. He quickly unzipped his uniform, sliding his right arm out. The bite marks from his run-in with an alien equivalent of a rabid raccoon a week earlier were nearly gone now, the redness from the allergic reaction he'd had almost completely faded.

"Very nice Lieutenant. Let me give you one more injection for the lingering skin irritation and you'll be as good as new, hmm?" Phlox turned to his table, inserting a prepared vial into his hypospray. He twirled back around, sliding the device to his patient's neck.

"Well then Doctor, if that will be..." Malcolm stopped, blinking. He suddenly felt dizzy. He lifted his eyes to meet Phlox's, expression shocked. "What...what did you...?" He was unconscious before he could finish the question. The doctor smiled, a nastier version of his usual expression, as he situated his patient flat down on the biobed.

"Now, Mr. Reed, let's see if we can't make you a little more cooperative, hmm?" he chirped, pulling a new tool from his counter top tray with one hand as he pulled the privacy curtain around them with the other.  
_______________________________________________________

 

"Has Hoshi discovered what my punishment is?" Malcolm finally asked after he and Trip had sat together for several minutes.

Trip was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, Malcolm sitting between his legs and resting back against him. They had both realized there was no point in keeping up any sort of formal air; it wouldn't change the outcome, and his last hour was meant to be spent however he chose. And he chose to spend it in quiet resolve with the man he loved, trying to keep his fear of the unknown at bay.

"She said that 'Jo'kur'a' means 'The Fear' in ancient Lakaran," Trip responded quietly. His arms reflexively tightened around Malcolm, as he rested a cheek against the smaller man's head. "I guess it took a while to find because it was used as a proper noun."

Malcolm shivered a bit. It was bad enough to have been convicted of a crime he didn't even remember committing, but to face a punishment that was completely unknown unnerved him completely.

"What do you suppose that means?" Malcolm asked after a moment.

"I hope we ain't gotta find out," Trip answered softly, rubbing his hands up and down his lover's arms.

Malcolm hoped he was right.  
_______________________________________________________

 

Captain Jonathon Archer took a seat across the Lakaran High Seer, Kajaraat. The alien leader stood nearly seven feet tall, his thin arms and legs hidden beneath his flowing white robes. His long, bony fingers ended in thin claws, and they clicked melodically as he drummed them on the desktop.

Kajaraat turned his head, sniffing the air with his long, dog-like snout. He nodded in satisfaction before beckoning to his personal guard.

"Girgan, please wait outside. I smell the calm on this one. I know his intentions to be true."

The lithe guard struck his stun staff on the ground and bowed, eyes betraying his annoyance, but complied and stepped out into the hallway. Archer inhaled and turned to Malcolm, waving him over.

"You can wait outside too, Lieutenant. I don't think we need to be worried about our gracious hosts."

Malcolm grimaced, knowing that Archer played the diplomatic game better as time went on. He didn't like leaving him in an enclosed room with the alien leader. The Lakaran may have looked frail, but Malcolm was quite sure the creature could easily hold his own in a fight against the Captain.

"Yes sir," he answered reluctantly, following the hulking guard out, rolling his eyes at Archer's coy smile. His Captain knew him too well, and always took his reactions lightly, but at least he was used to it by now.

Outside, Girgan was engaged in quiet conversation with Ensign Travis Mayweather. Travis smiled at Malcolm as the lieutenant emerged and closed the door behind him.

"Hey Lieutenant. Girgan and I were just talking about you," he said, a teasing glimmer in his eye. The ensign was waiting around for the trade talks to end, as he had piloted the shuttle carrying his captain and security officer.

"All good, I hope," Malcolm responded, doing his best to look completely nonchalant under the toothy, vicious looking grin of the guard.

The three exchanged small talk, Malcolm and Girgan managing to hold an easy bantering while remaining alert to any activity around them.

In the shadows one level above them, ducked beneath the stone railings and pillars, a figure held a small communicator, nervously chattering to someone.

"The pilot isn't leaving. If I try to do this with him here, the chances of it succeeding are much smaller. And it could lead to the young Human's death as well."

"We won't get another opportunity," the disembodied voice protested. "If the pilot doesn't leave in the next few minutes, proceed anyway. I will have my revenge."

"But do you think he'll attack his crewmate?"

"He'll do what needs to be done," the voice answered coldly.

The figure closed the communicator and peered over the rim of the railing, watching the two Humans and Lakaran talk. He tuned his communicator silently as he waited.  
_______________________________________________________

 

"Have you found anything yet?" Malcolm asked suddenly after several minutes of silence. "Any explanation at all?"

Trip sighed. He wanted to know why his protective chief of security had suddenly nearly become a ruthless killer. It was hard enough for him to see the security footage and Travis's bruised jaw.

Trip knew Malcolm had to know what made him lose control of himself. It would eat him up inside until they found the answer.

"T'Pol has been workin' non-stop to try and figure it out. She's sure it has something to do with that sound you and Travis heard just before it happened." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "If these damned Lakarans would just give us a little more time, I know she and Phlox could find out what happened."

Malcolm reached out a hand, grasping Trip's as it was contorting into a fist. He smoothed his fingers down the straining hand, and forced them into the palm, pushing the engineer's rough fingers up until their hands were palm to palm. Malcolm twined his fingers around Trip's, and received a grip in response.

"It will be all right," Malcolm whispered, turning to face Trip, his other hand reaching up to cup the face that was now so close to his own, his steel gray eyes peering into those sky blues.

He leaned in, claiming Trip's mouth in a kiss, seeking to both calm his lover and himself. If he couldn't find a way to remember what had happened to lead him here, Malcolm had to at least try to forget where he would soon be going.  
_______________________________________________________

 

"What's up?" Travis asked, noticing Malcolm's growing discomfort.

"I feel like we're being watched," he answered in a whisper.

Girgan glanced around inconspicuously, continuing their conversation as if nothing was said. For a few moments, there was no sign of anything, but their alertness remained. Just when it seemed the uneasiness was merely the armory officer's trademark paranoia, a low sound began to emanate in the corridor.

"What is that?" Travis asked, twirling around looking for the source of the pulsing noise.

"I hear nothing," Girgan answered, also looking around, staff up in a more attack ready position.

Malcolm shook his head for a moment, the low sound hurting his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut at the unexpected sharp pain in his skull, but it faded just as quickly.

"It may be out of your hearing range," Travis offered, eyes scanning the upper level. Malcolm reached down to his holster, quickly flicking the setting on his phase pistol, eyes darting between Travis and Girgan.

"See anything Lieutenant?" Travis asked, not turning around.

Girgan had taken a few steps away, nose in the air as he sniffed for intruders. When Malcolm didn't answer him, Travis turned his head, just in time to receive a right hook to the jaw. He staggered back, legs giving way, and fell to the floor. Malcolm quickly pivoted, pulling his phase pistol and aiming it at Girgan. The guard turned around, eyes widening.

The blast just missed him as he ducked, Malcolm thrown off balance when Travis dove at him. The pistol was knocked away. The ensign looked at his superior officer, the blank eyes that met his unnerving the young helmsman.

"What's wrong with you Malcolm?" he asked, his disbelief evident. But his only response was a toss, and he was airborne over the armory officer's head, landing solidly on his back.

Malcolm jumped to his feet, eyeing the distance between himself and the phase pistol, and watching the Lakaran guard take a battle stance. The odds were not good, he knew, with the incredible agility his opponent had. But he had no other option. He had to complete his objective.

He made a dash for the pistol, Girgan following him, and they met just inches from it as the stun staff struck Malcolm in the side. He let out a cry, falling to the floor, pistol within reach. He grasped it, but before he could pull the trigger, the Lakaran twirled his staff and knocked the weapon away, striking Malcolm firmly in the chest with the glowing rod. The lieutenant gritted his teeth and grunted in pain before losing consciousness.

Travis wiped his fist across his jaw, looking down at the security officer and back up at Girgan. The guard looked back at him, a sad, sympathetic look in his eyes, before both of them turned to face the opening doors and the shocked expressions of Kajaraat and Captain Archer.  
_______________________________________________________

 

Breaking off the kisses reluctantly, Malcolm settled himself as much into Trip's arms as was possible, shifting their positions until they were both sitting comfortably again. Malcolm rested his head in the crook of Trip's neck, his left arm around Trip's waist while is right hung on the man's left shoulder. Trip's arms curled around him, drawing random circles along the smaller man's back in a gesture meant to comfort them both.

Malcolm knew he looked vulnerable like this, open and exposed, but he didn't care. The fear of what was to come had begun to build, leaving a sick feeling in his stomach, and he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. For once, he felt he was entitled to a little frailty, a little weakness. It was the most he could show in front of Trip.

Malcolm was grateful Trip had calmed down. The engineer had been so wound up at the trial that Malcolm feared he'd be arrested as well. The last thing he could have faced was his lover getting into trouble over him. It amazed him that someone could feel so strongly for him, could care so much. And it scared him that he felt exactly the same, no matter how differently he may show it.

It was a weakness they shared, and so he knew that they would share his crime, and his punishment. It hurt him more than he thought something like that ever could. The one thing he never wanted to do was hurt the man he loved.  
_______________________________________________________

 

"Wait a minute!" Trip shouted, his agitation increasing with each passing second. His eyes flashed from his captain to his first officer from his place next to Malcolm's still form on a sleeping shelf in the waiting room they had gathered in.

Commander T'Pol showed no reaction, save a hint of silent understanding in her eyes. "I'm sorry Commander, but we must allow this trial to commence. We must take responsibility for what has occurred. Ensign Mayweather has made it clear that a crime did take place. It would be unreasonable for us to take any extreme actions in light of that fact."

Trip shot a look at Travis, not quite venomous, but the anger was simmering there. Travis knew it wasn't personal. He knew Trip was just as shocked as the rest of them. And he knew his superior had a high stake in this trial. But the knowledge didn't lessen the guilt he was feeling at knowing he'd have to testify against his friend.

"I have to defer to T'Pol on this too, Trip. We're going to do everything we can to find out what happened, and to help him out, but we can't afford to create an incident here." Archer was clearly uneasy with the concession he was making, but he had little choice. The captain had had enough experience with interfering in other governments' policies and processes before, and it never ended well. He had to show he'd learned something this time.

"I have been reviewing the Lakaran policies on this matter," T'Pol continued, holding Trip's eyes as she explained to stall his next protest. "They have swift justice, but they have no capital punishments, and very few extended prison sentences. Their punishments are meant to deter from future outbreaks of criminal activity, and they are quite effective." She held a hand up as Trip opened his mouth to ask. "But I cannot find sufficient information on what these punishments entail, exactly."

"But what about an investigation? Come on, guys, you know as well as I do Mal'd never do anything like that without a reason. We gotta find out what happened. Maybe somethin's seriously wrong with him!" Trip reflexively smoothed a hand across his unconscious lover's forehead as he spoke.

"The Lakarans admit emotional reactions as evidence as much as facts. We may be able to use this to our advantage, to receive leniency, or perhaps an extension to investigate the matter ourselves." T'Pol turned to face Travis. "You must maintain complete honesty about what occurred, but you may also display your belief that this is not normal behavior for the lieutenant. If you convey your feelings in this matter, they will take those emotions into account in their judgment."

Travis nodded. His disbelief was evident when he had explained what happened to Archer and again to T'Pol, after the Lakaran guards had transported T'Pol and Trip down and escorted them all to the court waiting room.

The high seer had asked Girgan right away what happened when he and the captain had emerged from their meeting at the sounds of a struggle. Archer had rushed to Malcolm's side, and after hearing the guard's story, had asked Travis what had happened. The ensign had only nodded in agreement to what Girgan had said, unwilling to admit anything aloud in front of the aliens without knowing the consequences.

Kajaraat had immediately ordered a trial, and told Archer his most senior officers should be present. He explained after transporting T'Pol and Trip down that they would have some time to discuss their options, that it would be an hour or more before Malcolm regained consciousness, and that he'd have another half hour thereafter before the trial. The seer had provided T'Pol with the procedures of the Lakaran courts, and they had been escorted to a waiting area.

There would be no time for the crew to investigate the attack until after the trial, but T'Pol had made it clear they shouldn't attempt to subvert the alien court. Archer wasn't warm to the idea, but he had to agree after hearing Travis's account of what happened.

Quiet reigned in the small waiting area as T'Pol continued to study the padd she had been given, and Trip sat uneasily next to Malcolm, holding a cold hand in his own, waiting for the man to wake up. He prayed there would be some answers at that time.  
_______________________________________________________

 

Malcolm felt the movement of Trip's head and looked up, following his lover's gaze out the cell door, where the Chief of Courts and two guards had appeared. The judge was holding a thin, long bell, and held it out in front of him, pulling a small mallet from his robe.

"It's time," Malcolm whispered, his voice the only sound until the hammer hit the bell, ringing a deep tone throughout the chamber. Trip reflexively tightened his grip for a moment before Malcolm pulled away. They stood, but neither made a move toward the door.

On the second ring, the guard posted at the door turned, lowering the energy field that blocked the door. The two guards that had accompanied the chief stepped forward, into the cell. Trip took Malcolm's hand in his own, giving a supportive squeeze and receiving one in return.

A third ring, and the two imposing figures stopped in front of Malcolm, staves striking the floor in unison. The lieutenant made to approach them, but Trip held him back, a hint of panic welling in his stomach. The guards merely stared back.

"It is time." The chief's voice rang out as clear as the bell, and two large hands gripped each of Malcolm's arms firmly. Trip opened his mouth to protest, but the gray eyes staring back at him stopped the words.

"It's okay Trip."

The engineer released his hold reluctantly, standing silently and trembling as Malcolm was led away. The judge watched him, his large brown eyes never leaving Trip's as he rang the bell a final time.

"You may come as well," he said when the room was again silent. He turned, robes swaying with him as he strode past the guards and Malcolm. Trip followed behind them all, his heart racing, knots building in his chest.

The miracle he prayed for wasn't coming, and Trip Tucker found he was afraid of what was in its place.  
_______________________________________________________

 

T'Pol sat in the darkened mess hall, sipping tea and examining a padd. Normally the single day before the passing of a sentence was a time of reflection for the convicted. But the emotional testimony of both Girgan and Travis, as well as Malcolm's firm commitment that he remembered nothing of the attack, had convinced the Chief of Courts to allow Enterprise to conduct their own internal investigation.

T'Pol had received all visual security data of the time around the attack, as well as all sensor logs of that time, from the Lakarans. She had interviewed Girgan herself as well. But she found she was becoming frustrated with the lack of progress she had made. The time was nearly up, and though she was committed to finding an explanation of what had occurred regardless of how long it took, if she failed to discover some solid evidence in the next half hour, her fellow officer would face punishment for a crime he knew nothing of.

She went over the testimony again in her mind; both Ensign Mayweather's account and Girgan's made it clear that Lieutenant Reed had been acting normally right up until the attack.

Lieutenant Reed's own testimony, what little there was, had T'Pol convinced he was somehow conditioned into attacking the seer's guard. It was the only logical theory. She had been going over the facts in her mind, looking for a method by which this theory could have been enacted.

Doctor Phlox assured her that without some sort of direct telepathic contact, or an invasive medical procedure, it would take weeks, perhaps months, to condition such a strong response in someone. And the fact that the response was against Malcolm's usual behavior only reinforced the time and effort required.

Enterprise had only been in orbit of Lakara for two days before this incident occurred. In that time, logs and sensors showed that Lieutenant Reed had not been anywhere on the planet unaccompanied. That ruled out exposure to medical or telepathic tampering on the planet surface. And on Enterprise, only herself and Phlox had the ability to perform such a mental conditioning. Neither she nor the Doctor would have had a reason to want to attack Girgan.

When T'Pol had interviewed him, the guard could think of no one who would want to do him harm. He was certain, as T'Pol was, that the attack was aimed at him. He said he could feel the hatred coming from Malcolm during the fight, and that the armory officer made no attempt to enter the room where the seer and Captain Archer were meeting.

The security footage revealed nothing new, and since there was no sound, the frequency Travis had heard needed to be recreated from scratch. An hour ago, Travis and Hoshi had managed to isolate the modulated sound, and Hoshi believed it came from a modified communicator. She had picked up a spike in comm traffic in the sensor logs for that time period.

But none of these things individually moved them any closer to an explanation. They were all random and circumstantial.

T'Pol felt if she could mind meld with Lieutenant Reed, perhaps she'd gain the missing piece of this puzzle. But she had no access to him until after the sentence had been carried out.

The door to the mess slid open, revealing a tired but determined looking Ensign Sato. She rushed over to T'Pol's table, padd in hand.

"I think I've got something," she started without preamble. She handed the device to the Vulcan commander while explaining further. "There was a transmission received by a personal communicator in the same corridor where the attack took place, about five minutes before the modulated frequency sounded."

"That is a Starfleet comm signature," T'Pol replied, eyebrow lifting in surprise. The landing party hadn't used their communicators during that time.

"I've isolated it. It came from sickbay. The only person in sickbay at that time was Doctor Phlox." Hoshi met T'Pol's eyes when she looked up. "I could only make out a few words of the transmission, something about revenge. But it was definitely the doctor's voice."

T'Pol stood. Several thoughts were running through her mind, arranging themselves into a semblance of order. She shuffled through them quickly in her mind, placing these new objectives in line with the current available information. A single, logical progression emerged.

"Come with me Ensign." She turned and exited the mess hall, Hoshi close behind her.  
_______________________________________________________

 

The group had stopped at a small room, the guards pressing something Trip could not see into Malcolm's hands and leading him through the door. A few minutes later he emerged in white clothes, not unlike medical scrubs, his feet bare. Trip wished he could find humor in the way his lover was practically swimming in the baggy material. He did grin, however tremulously, when Malcolm turned to him and made a show of rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

The remainder of the walk was in silence, Malcolm's head bowed as they continued forward. Trip could see the even breathing, the confident steps; the signs of a well trained security officer. Both were in contrast to the rigid set of his muscles and the minute trembling of his fingers; the signs of the frightened man beneath. Malcolm was struggling to maintain his dignity.

A surge of pride filled Trip, for a brief moment overriding his own fear. If it had been him in this situation, the engineer feared he would not have been nearly as strong. Even now, he was shaking like a leaf, stomach quivering, and he felt weak and helpless. It left the bitter taste of shame in his mouth to think he couldn't be as strong as his lover when he himself wasn't the one about to be punished.

But he had told these things to Malcolm when they sat alone in that cell. It brought an endless warmth to his heart to remember the affection in his lover's eyes as he told Trip there was nothing to be ashamed of. That if their roles were reversed, he'd have been beside himself and unable to cope. That he didn't envy the engineer at all, having to wait, not knowing what would happen.

Trip knew then, reaffirmed for himself, that the love that they shared was real. That they could be open, tell each other everything, feel so closely to one another. It was a salvation that came from the damned, and Trip knew why he had to go with his lover to face this punishment with him. He had to offer salvation in return.

He steeled himself as they entered a set of double doors at the end of the hall. The guards led Malcolm into a large, clear cell, like a giant plexiglass box. Trip was stopped a few feet from the edge, doing his best to convey his love and support through his eyes. Malcolm smiled slightly before turning to face the Chief of Courts.

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of Enterprise, you have been convicted of the crime of attempted murder. The punishment for this is the Jo'kur'a. Have you anything to speak of on your behalf?"

"I do not," Malcolm answered with more conviction than he felt, his head held high, eyes meeting the alien judge. He had seen the security recording, and Travis's testimony, however reluctant, had been the truth. He couldn't argue it.

"Since your defense has been unable to provide a satisfactory explanation for your actions, this court will now pass your sentence. May this dark experience bring you a brighter future."  
_______________________________________________________

 

"Here," Hoshi declared, pointing at the log entry in question.

"Doctor Phlox saw Mr. Reed for a follow-up examination yesterday morning. He administered a hypospray to counter an allergic reaction to the animal attack from last week's away mission. According the report, the lieutenant was out of sickbay in a few minutes." T'Pol examined the medical log for discrepancies.

"No he wasn't," Hoshi muttered to herself.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, turning. "Ensign?"

"I need to go back into the sensor logs again," she answered, punching up new data on her console. "But I'm sure I remember Lieutenant Reed being there a lot longer than that." A few more seconds and the screen scrolled through sensor data from the previous morning. "Right there. He was in sickbay for nearly forty-five minutes."

"And it would seem that no one else other than he and the doctor were there during that time." T'Pol stepped back to her own station, bringing up a new sensor log search. "I believe Doctor Phlox had a meeting with someone on Lakara the first day we were here."

"Yeah," Hoshi agreed, quickly scanning through the records for shuttlepod use on their first day in orbit. "Here, he went down at 11:00 hours that morning, and returned at 18:30 that evening."

"He was at a conference at a medical facility. I will need to get the sensor data from them for the time he was there," T'Pol replied.

"Already on it," Hoshi answered, earpiece at the ready as she contacted the Lakaran government again.

Within minutes, a new rush of data played on T'Pol's monitor. As she examined the readout, the mystery surrounding the attack on the planet began to fade away. Only one bit of information remained open, and without it, the theory would fall completely apart.

"Ensign Sato, contact the Lakarans. Tell them I would like as much information as possible on Healer Viyala. And please ask them to have Girgan contact me again as quickly as possible."

Hoshi nodded, punching up several commands. A transmission broke through as she was working, and she swallowed hard, sighing. She swiveled in her chair, looking at T'Pol, concern in her eyes betraying her attempts at remaining calm.

"The court office has called. They've begun the 'Jo'kur'a.'"

T'Pol nodded, a fleeting look of first failure, then worry, passing in her eyes before she turned away.

"I will notify the captain. Continue with your orders Ensign. We have to find who is truly responsible." She walked away without a backward glace, reluctantly making for Archer's ready room with the unfortunate news.

_______________________________________________________

 

Before he had a chance to think about what was said, Malcolm felt a cold, wet sensation crawl over his bare feet. When he looked down, his eyes widened as he saw water seeping steadily into his enclosed cell from an unknown source. He fought down the instant wave of panic, choking back a cry as he backed to the wall. His heart rate had rocketed, his breathing increasing even as he tried desperately to fight it back.

Trip's eyes widened as well, the shock and icy fear gripping him. He regained himself quickly, looking over at the Chief as the Lakaran watched on expressionlessly.

"Whaddaya doin' to him?" he asked, his thick accent betraying his anxiety.

The alien merely turned to him, skewering the engineer with his stare. "It is the Jo'kur'a."

"But if you keep it goin'," Trip stopped, eyes back to Malcolm as the man searched desperately along the smooth walls for a way out, pounding the unyielding material with his fists. "If you let the water keep fillin' that box, he'll drown!"

The Chief nodded solemnly.

"As I said, the Jo'kur'a."

"But we were told you didn't have a death penalty!" Trip shouted frantically, his voice cracking when he heard the first sign of his lover's control slipping, a whimpering as the water rose above his knees.

"It is not. He will be revived, and he will survive. But he must face the punishment. This cannot be denied." The alien turned his head back to the scene, effectively ending the questioning from Trip.

But the engineer didn't even notice, his full attention on the box as Malcolm finally looked up to meet his eyes. Trip stumbled forward, pressing himself to the clear wall. Malcolm scrambled to him, surging through the now thigh-deep water and against the same wall. His eyes were wild with terror unlike anything Trip had ever seen on the normally calm armory officer.

It was nearly six months ago, after they had been together for two weeks, that Malcolm had confided in his new lover of his fear of drowning. He told Trip about the conversation he'd had with Captain Archer on the hull in the Romulan minefield, about his shame. And Trip had told him it was all right, that everyone was entitled to one great fear. He'd even joked that at least Malcolm wasn't afraid of bugs. Now that was embarrassing.

But seeing his love now, faced with that fear in the flesh, unable to hide from it, Trip felt overwhelmingly helpless. Beneath the sparkling panic was a hint of that shame.

"You're going to be all right, Mal," Trip spoke firmly, trying to hold a strong voice to center his terrified lover.

"No Trip...I'm going to drown," was the response, Malcolm's voice uncharacteristically high in pitch as he pawed at the wall. The water was nearly to his chest, and quickly rising. "Please...I need to get out."

The clawing sound from within the chamber may as well have been coming from within his own chest as Trip felt the combined fear of his lover and himself ripping through him. He twirled around, grabbing a staff from one of the guards, wrenching it from the alien's grasp and taking it solidly in both hands. With all the strength he possessed, Trip rammed one end of the metal rod into the imposing wall that separated him from Malcolm.

There was a weak thud, but no mark even marred the features of the unyielding surface, and repeated hits didn't change it. Neither the guards nor the judge himself made any attempts to stop Trip, knowing it would be futile. Eventually the engineer would give in to the reality of the situation.

"Trip..."

The quiet, pleading voice stopped him, and Trip dropped the staff as though every bit of energy had been sapped from him. He fell into the wall, eyes burning, unable to look Malcolm in the eye.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, swallowing hard before finally looking up.

The scene was desperate, Malcolm treading water to stay above it, the ceiling only an inch above him, and Trip knew he had only a few moments before he'd be completely under.

"I...love you," Malcolm blurted out between breaths, his eyes alight with terror.

"No, don't you start that," Trip yelled angrily, wiping furiously at his eyes as he looked up at the form swimming in front of him. "You're going to get through this! They ain't gonna let you die, and neither am I. I'm stayin' right here." He placed his right hand flat against the wall, gritting his teeth. "You've gotta hang on, you got me Mal?"

Malcolm shook, unable to stop the whimper that escaped him when he opened his mouth. "Trip..."

"That's an order lieutenant!" Trip shouted fiercely, the pain and determination in his eyes plain to see.

Malcolm nodded, placing his own hand on the opposite side of the wall, pressing it firmly against Trip's. He kept it there even as he leaned his head back to breathe when the water rose above his nose line. It remained there until he let out a final cry, taking in a last breath before the water reached the top of the cell, covering him.

For a few agonizing minutes, Malcolm thrashed around, pounding on the wall, breath leaving him in short bursts as he held on as long as possible. Trip turned enraged eyes on the alien who was still standing by, watching.

"God dammit, haven't you had enough!?" he screamed, tears in his eyes.

The Lakaran did not respond, his features firm, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes.

Trip couldn't have cared less, his attention refocused as Malcolm finally let out the last of his breath. The fear in his eyes doubled for an instant as he inhaled water, his arms and legs slowing. Then an acceptance, a moment of clarity as he finally gave up, his eyes sliding shut and his erratic motion finally stilling.

His legs giving out, Trip slid down the wall to his knees, forehead resting on the cool, clear substance, fists clenching and giving one final slam against the cell, his eyes tightly shut, tears streaming down his cheeks, his lips pursed but trembling. He remained there, time out of focus, heart bleeding in his chest, unable to move.

He didn't even register when the Chief of Courts spoke again, what could have been an eternity later.

"It is done."  
_______________________________________________________

 

"His younger brother was in competition with me for the position of High Seer's personal guard. But the boy was slightly unstable, and very unpredictable. He began to lose his focus as he progressed in his training, and by the time he'd reached a point where he could be considered, his lack of mental discipline was showing too clearly to be overlooked." Girgan sighed, shaking his head as he looked away, as if remembering something upsetting. "When he didn't get the position, he went wild. He became self destructive. It eventually led to his death."

The hurt on the alien's face was obvious, and T'Pol didn't ask him to elaborate.

"When I saw Viyala later on, I offered my sincerest sympathies to him. He seemed to have accepted his brother's fate, though. He even thanked me for trying to help the boy train and learn. He said he knew it would come to that one day."

"It would seem that Viyala's brother wasn't the only one in his family who was unstable," T'Pol answered. She had received word that the Lakaran doctor had just been taken into custody on charges of assault, evasion and conspiracy to commit murder.

T'Pol hadn't waited for the guard to get back to her once she'd had enough information to test her theory. Instead, she visited Phlox in sickbay, a communicator in one hand and a scanner in the other. When she activated the same low frequency that Travis had heard before the attack the previous day, the doctor had suddenly become aggressive, speaking of revenge and attempting to attack the Vulcan commander.

She had subdued him with a nerve pinch, and had taken her findings immediately to the Lakaran government. When they examined the evidence, they felt it was enough to track down the elusive Viyala and question him. They didn't figure he'd snap and attack the investigators.

But questioning the neurotic doctor had been quick, and his answers decisive. He admitted planting his scheme into the visiting Denobulan doctor, claiming it was brilliant, and then vowed to follow through on the original intention and kill Girgan as soon as he was released. His trial was quick, his punishment decided just as efficiently: the Jo'kur'a.

T'Pol had been assured by the Lakarans that Lieutenant Reed would be treated for the conditioning while he recovered from his own punishment. And they had already transported down Phlox to remove the suggestion from him as well. They had also offered their sincerest apologies for the wrongful conviction of the lieutenant.

In the interests of interplanetary peace, T'Pol had accepted the apology, as well as the offer of a more profitable trade agreement for both Earth and Vulcan as compensation. She still didn't know what Malcolm had been put through for the crime he'd just been acquitted of, but she at least knew why he had done it.

"I appreciate your cooperation during our investigation, Girgan," she spoke to the image on her screen.

He nodded once, eyes still holding the sadness he'd had in them since the ordeal started. "It was no problem. I am sorry we could not have prevented the unfortunate outcome. The lieutenant is an honorable warrior. I can only hope his strength of will is enough to see him through..."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, curious as well as concerned. "Are you familiar with the Jo'kur'a,?" she asked firmly.

"I have faced it myself, as all in the highest class of warrior must. I have seen members of the honor guard broken by it. If he survives...intact," Girgan hesitated, long jaw working for a moment before continuing, "he will be stronger for it. And he will be regarded by the Lakarans as a great warrior."

When she finished speaking to Girgan, T'Pol prepared a complete report of her findings for Captain Archer. He was going down to the surface in an hour to retrieve the rest of his crew, and he would want to know what had occurred before he spoke with any of them, or with the Lakarans.

The commander knew her captain would take this particular report very hard, if her own disquiet was any indication. She would have to meditate longer tonight to rid herself of each difficult emotion she'd been forced to face during this mission. And T'Pol knew it wasn't finished; she hadn't even seen Commander Tucker or Lieutenant Reed yet.

_______________________________________________________

 

Trip stared blankly ahead, his eyes fixed on the corner of the door on the far wall. He was concentrating very hard to actually look at the detailed carving that covered that particular edge of the door, eyes tracing the twirling pattern etched into the alien metal. If he kept following the spirals and imagining the various ways someone could carve them into such a beautifully elaborate work of art, he wouldn’t have to see the other images that tried to push into his mind in their place.

His hands were preoccupied, absently stroking the limp fingers of Malcolm’s right hand. His legs were busy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. His ears caught every breath that came from the still form on the shelf next to him, a new hint of relief fluttering through him with each inhalation. And his eyes were working over an alien door as though it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Now if only his mind would find something else to do.

Trip could vaguely recall his conversation with Captain Archer; the news that T’Pol had uncovered the truth behind the crime; the worried inquires about the nature of Malcolm’s punishment; the concern for Trip’s own condition. He also remembered asking his best friend to give him some time. That he’d explain everything, and listen to what Archer wanted to say, later. That for now he just needed to be with Malcolm. Alone.

Trip even recalled, with a shadow of a chuckle, his captain’s reluctant compliance. They’d known each other long enough for Archer to know when Trip needed to be alone and when he needed to talk. The man was smart enough to know when words would do no good. This was one of those rare times when he even listened to that knowledge and let his chief engineer go.

A sharp intake of breath and a sudden, painfully tight grip on his hand alerted Trip. Malcolm’s eyes opened wide in shock, before blinking furiously against the bright light. He bolted upright, breathing increasing as he pulled his hand free from Trip and began to edge backward on his bed.

“Malcolm, it’s okay,” Trip spoke soothingly, on his feet instantly and reaching carefully to grip his startled lover’s shoulders. “Everything’s alright. It’s all over.”

Malcolm struggled against the hands on him, eyes staring straight into nothingness. He began to gasp for breath, feet sliding against the smooth surface of the shelf beneath him as he tried to push himself further into the wall behind him. Trip’s hands held tighter for a moment as he leaned over to peer into the terrified gray eyes.

“Malcolm, come on darlin’,” Trip pleaded. The armory officer’s panicked expression was bringing back the memories of the drowning that Trip was trying so hard to push from his mind.

Malcolm blinked again, eyes focusing on the frightened gaze that met him. He began to shake, head jerking around to take in his surroundings. “Where?” he blurted out finally.

“Still on Lakara,” Trip answered. He began to move his fingers, kneading the tightly wound muscles beneath the light fabric of the shirt Malcolm was wearing. “Calm down, take deep breaths.”

Malcolm’s eyes closed, and he slumped forward against the engineer’s chest, shuddering as he tried to control his breathing. He felt his lover's arms wrap around him, holding him tightly, and he pulled the man closer to him, clinging to the warmth like a life preserver.

After what may have been hours, for all it seemed to them, Malcolm stirred slightly, unwilling to move, but unable to remain in place comfortably. He pulled away from Trip, swinging his legs around to hang over the edge of the shelf. The engineer moved immediately to sit next to him, sliding a hand over the still rigid shoulders. The dark head tilted to rest against him.

“Do we know?” Malcolm asked quietly after a few minutes.

Trip didn’t have to ask him what he meant. “Yeah, we do.”

A few minutes more in silence.

“Is it over?”

Tired but sincere blue eyes met wary but hopeful gray ones.

“Yeah.”

A slight nod, a soft exhalation of relief, a hand reaching to grasp the one on his shoulder, and a brief shudder as the weight of the world was slowly lifted from him.

There would be time for explanations later. For now, nothing seemed more important to Lieutenant Malcolm Reed than the caring embrace of one Commander Charles Tucker.


End file.
